He shrugged. "Let me begin by saying that my wish to enter the ton had nothing whatsoever to do with any great desire to be a part of society. Though I shall no doubt shock you in saying so, I am perfectly content with my station in life."
She blinked twice, visibly confused by his response. "Then what-" She shook her head, her smile faltering as her brow knit into a frown. "Why-I mean-" Another head shake, this one accompanied by a look that begged him to answer the question she clearly sought to ask.
"Why did I agree to a bargain from which I would gain nothing I desire?" he supplied.
She nodded.
"Because while I have no use for the ton, I thought that being a part of it might provide advantages for my siblings, my youngest sister in particular. But now, after viewing the females in the ton, seeing what is expected of them and how they are required to behave, I have decided that she is far better off as she is."
Her ladyship's aristocratic nose promptly rose in the air. "And what is wrong with the way we females in the ton behave, pray tell?" There was more than a note of hauteur in her voice this time.
Gideon shrugged again. "Nothing, I suppose, if you like affected, over bred chits who are so well tamed that they cannot entertain an original thought or express an honest emotion."
She sniffed. "If that is truly your perception of us, then you are every bit as ignorant of society as I suspected." Her facade was definitely crumbling around the edges now. "While there are admittedly many females such as you describe, there are scores of others who are counted as clever and original, and are much admired for their naturalness. Why, you have only to observe one of the many women held out as paragons by the ton to see that what I say is true."
He could not help snorting at her claim. "Please believe me when I say that I have done exactly that. Indeed, I have spent almost every second of my time in your precious ton observing such a woman, one who is touted by all as being the paragon to end all paragons. It is from her that I formed my poor opinion. Well, her and her equally ideal sisters."
"I cannot even begin to imagine whom you mean, sir," she retorted, the precision of her accents clearly betraying her growing vexation.
"Can you not?"
"No."
"Come now, I should think it would be more than obvious."
She seemed to consider; then her eyes narrowed and she halted in her steps. "You cannot possibly be referring to-"
"You, yes," he interjected dryly.
Her eyes narrowed a fraction more, glittering in a way that made them seem in danger of shooting sparks. "You truly are an insufferable man," she hissed, two vermilion spots appearing on her cheeks in her anger. "How dare you presume to judge me?"
He chuckled, cynically amused by her question. "And why should I not judge you? By your words and actions you have certainly presumed to judge me, and yet you know far less about me than I know of you." That much was certainly true. Aside from the mechanical inquiries that came from the idle chitchat that made up the preponderance of her conversation, her high-and-mighty ladyship had never bothered to learn anything about him and his life.
That piece of logic earned him a withering look. "I know enough to recognize you for the blackguard you are. Anyone possessing so much as a shred of decency could see that only the worst kind of scoundrel would engage in the vile sort of bargain in which you entered with my father."
"Perhaps. Then again, if I am a scoundrel what does that make your father? It takes at least two to strike a bargain, you know." She opened her mouth, most probably to put him back in his lowly place, but he cut her off before she could speak, forcefully demanding, "And what of yourself, my dear Lady Julia? It seems to me that you agreed to play your part in all of this rather too easily. To my way of thinking, your ready acceptance of your role makes you every bit as morally corrupt as you seem to think me to be. Your actions most certainly are not those one would consider to be appropriate for a lady. Not a true one, at any rate."
Her mouth dropped open in her affront and she emitted an outraged squeak. Jerking her arm from his to brace her hands on her hips in a stance that was no doubt calculated to convey the magnitude of her indignity, she expelled, "And what, pray tell, do you know of ladies?"
"A great deal more than you, judging from your present behavior."
She ejected a scornful noise, halfway between a sniff and a snort. "I would wager that you never met a real lady before insinuating yourself into the ton."
"Then it is a good thing that we are not wagering, for you would lose," he countered in a reasonable voice. "I have met a great many women in my time who I would readily term as such, most of whom will never set foot in your exalted ton."
Her arms were folded across her chest now. "Indeed? Well, then. Since you style yourself as such an authority on the virtues that qualify a woman to be termed a lady, pray do share your vast knowledge."
"Gladly, but do you not think that it would be advisable to resume our stroll while I do so? We most certainly would not want your aunt to spirit you away before you have received the full benefit of my instruction." He presented his arm with a flourish.
She stared at it as if it were the most contemptible thing in the world and that in merely touching it she would suffer some sort of repulsive contamination. Then she sighed and took it.
As they embarked on their second turn around the garden perimeter, Gideon lectured, "A true lady is many things. She is charitable, compassionate, humble, considerate, selfless, and, of course, gracious to a fault. She is also brave yet modest, capable, sensible, merciful, and devoted to the welfare of those around her." He was thinking of his mother as he uttered that last, and her unfailing benevolence toward all she met, whether they were deserving of her goodness or not.
Smiling briefly at his fond memory, he continued, "Above all, a true lady is genuinely gentle and kind. She does not judge a person as less deserving of her respect just because he possesses fewer worldly goods than she, is less educated, or is born into an unfortunate set of circumstances. She most certainly does not judge on looks, for she is wise enough to know that those with the fairest faces can harbor the ugliest hearts, while those who are ill favored can have souls blinding in their beauty. She also does not
judge from the gossip she hears. A true lady reserves her judgment for when she can honestly claim to know a person, which is to say that she knows him heart, soul, and mind-that is, if she judges him at all. The finest ladies of all understand that it is not their place to judge, and they simply accept a person, flaws and all, in hopes that others will accept her in the same generous spirit."
"If the women you describe are as impossibly perfect as all that, I daresay that they need never fear that others will not accept them," Lady Julia pointed out with a sniff.
"Then you mistake what I say, for the truest ladies are far from perfect, and never try to deceive anyone into believing that they are. They-"
She cut him off with a derogatory noise. "Such stuff and nonsense! A true lady takes pains to correct her faults, just as she always strives to present herself in the best possible light. A true lady has a cultivated understanding of what is expected of her at all times, and possesses a thorough knowledge of her society's mores, manners and ceremonies that enables her to behave in a manner that closely approximates its ideal of perfection."
"Ah, but the manners that make a true lady go beyond the empty gestures and rote pleasantries taught for the sake of appearances," he rebutted. "Her every word and gesture is a sincere expression of her inner goodness, goodness being at the core of every true lady."
"By which, I suppose, you mean to imply that I possess no goodness." She out-and-out snorted in her annoyance, which in Gideon's book was very unladylike indeed, though he had to admit that he far preferred her snorts to her sniffs. "I must say that you take a great deal upon yourself in thinking that you know me well enough to render such a judgment."
"I am not judging you, I am merely doing as you requested and sha
ring my views on what makes a lady," he smoothly returned. "If you find yourself wanting in comparison-"
"Indeed I do not, sir," she snapped. "What you have described thus far is a most undisciplined sort of female, one whose manners and bearing would make her a scandal in the ton."
He nodded. "A terrible scandal, yes. Nonetheless, it is exactly the sort of lady into which I desire my sister to grow. In view of that fact, surely you can see why our bargain will never do."
"Yes, I can. I can also see that you are doing your sister a dreadful disservice by denying her the chance to learn to be the sort of lady possessed of the breeding to elevate her station in life. For despite what you may think, Mr. Harwood, as much as you may wish her to be accepted and admired for her naturalness and the goodness of her heart, the fact of the matter is that society has put forth a set slate of rules dictating how a lady must act. And unless she learns to observe them and behave in the prescribed manner, she will never be granted the opportunity to display her finer qualities. My sisters are-"
"Your sisters are exactly the sorts of chits I do not wish my sister to be."
Her face contorted in outrage, the fragments of her polite facade collapsing beneath the weight of her affront at his insult to her siblings. "I will have you know, sir, that my sisters are the dearest creatures in the entire world. And in declaring that you do not wish your sister to be like them, you are saying that you do not wish her to be loving, and obedient, and graceful, and beautiful, and everything else that is fine and good. Why, you could not find a more perfect pair of darlings than my sisters should you search all of England."
"They most certainly are perfect, I shall grant you that," he grated harshly. "Rather too perfect for my taste. They are like a pair of dolls, pretty and wooden, and wholly lacking in the natural merriment and energy of youth."
"And who is guilty of judging unjustly now? You have seen my sisters but once, sir, and under circumstances where displays of youthful energy would be viewed as highly improper." Her nose had risen in the air as far as it could go, and her chin had taken on a decidedly defiant set. "After all of your high-minded nattering against the sin of groundlessly judging others, you certainly seem eager to do exactly that." A sniff. "Then again, why should I be surprised that you would do so? As in the case you described of a woman being a lady, a part of what makes a man a gentleman is his wisdom to render a fair judgment. And since we have established that you shall never be a gentleman-" She raised her eyebrows, her silence pregnant with the insult of her unfinished sentence.
Gideon shrugged, refusing to be baited. "My remarks about your sisters were observations, not a judgment. If you will recall, I said that they are too perfect for my taste, thus allowing that their impeccable manners probably suit the tastes of others."
"I hardly see a difference."
"Then permit me to explain." Without awaiting her consent, he clarified, "An observation is simply a comment noting what one has seen and how they have interpreted it. As such, it allows that there are other equally valid views on the subject in question. A judgment, on the other hand, occurs when a person takes all opposing views on a subject into consideration, and renders a decision based on which one proves true in his mind."
Another sniff. "I suppose that you mean to tell me that your previous condemnation of all the females in the ton was not a judgment, but a mere observation?"
"No, it was a judgment. Then again, I have spent enough time in the ton that I feel qualified to rule on what I have seen and experienced. However, to set the record straight, I do not find all the females completely without merit."
"Indeed?" she sneered with an infuriating air of superiority. "Well, then. Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me which females have met with your approval so that I might learn from their stellar example?"
Again he refused to be baited. Nodding cordially at her request, he replied, "For all that she is viewed as exceedingly unfashionable, Lady Mina possesses a certain artlessness that is most refreshing. And I find your aunt, Lady Aurelia, exceedingly gracious and charming."
"Aunt Aurelia?" She drew back, frowning as if she could not quite believe her ears. "Surely you jest, sir?"
"I can assure you that I do not," he retorted acidly, his honor prompting him to rise to the defense of the woman who had always treated him with kindness. "I have found her ladyship's demeanor to be beyond reproach. Indeed, you would do well to learn from her example."
She emitted a singularly derogatory noise. "If you find her such a paragon, perhaps it is she whom you should wed. Please do, in fact. You would be doing us all an immense service in taking her off our hands." Her voice rose an octave with every word she spoke until she practically shouted the last line.
Gideon raised his eyebrows in amused wonder at her heated response. "My, my. Such passion. If I did not know better, I would say that you were behaving like a woman scorned, my dear." He paused to chuckle. "Do not tell me that you are jealous? That you have developed feelings for me and actually wish to wed me?"
"Of course not," she spat. "The only thing that I have developed for you is a deep and abiding distaste."
"In that instance, I should think you would be pleased by the news that you shall not have to wed me. Thrilled, in fact."
"Oh, I am thrilled-beyond thrilled! And if I never see you again, I shall count myself the most fortunate woman in the world."
He sketched his most elegant bow. "Your wish is my command, my dear. Let it never be said that I do not honor a lady's wishes."
Chapter 10
It was impossible. She could not do it. She simply did not have the courage.
Julia gripped the black iron railing outside of Gideon Harwood's Grosvenor Square residence, her knees growing weak as she gazed up at the modest yet substantial brown brick town house with its red dressings and keystone-crowned windows. But she must do it. She had no choice. Somehow, somewhere, she had to find the mettle to march up to that door and demand to see the master of the house.
The very thought of doing so made her tighten her hold on the railing, a grasp that clenched into a convulsive stranglehold of panic as she was assailed by another, even more daunting consideration: What would she do if he actually consented to see her? What could she possibly say to convince him to reconsider their bargain and compel him to wed her?
And wed him she must. For if she did not, she and her siblings would most certainly be tossed into the street, destitute and disgraced, while her parents faced the ghastly prospect of debtors' prison. At least that was the grim picture her father had painted the night before when he had called her into his study in response to a note he had received from Mr. Harwood, which he had read aloud. And a most hateful note it was, curtly phrased and devoid of the perfunctory yet placating courtesies that usually prefaced a missive bearing ill tidings.
Oh, true. She supposed that the tidings might not be considered so very bad if one could judge them by their words alone. After all, the beastly man had promised to uphold his end of the bargain, even as he released them from all obligations of theirs. But as her father had pointed out, and quite astutely she might add, a promise from a blackguard like Mr. Harwood could in no way be trusted, especially in view of the fact that he had not returned the debt voucher her father said her mother had signed. He had then gone on to explain how their family would remain poised on the brink of ruin for as long as the villain possessed that voucher, and how they would be completely at his mercy, slaves to his every wish and whim for fear that he would call the ruinous debt due.
To say that their situation was dire would be a vast understatement, and it was unlikely to improve any time soon, if ever, unless, of course, she could somehow change Mr. Harwood's mind about the bargain and persuade him to wed her. After all, even an unscrupulous character like Gideon Harwood would not stoop so very low as to ruin his wife's family. He would not dare. Not if he wished to continue his business dealings in town, the majority of which currently involved the purcha
se of various London properties from ton members.
At least that was the sort of business Amy said he was engaged in, and the sly boots should certainly know, thanks to her talent for wheedling from her father any information she desired. It was a talent she had been practicing quite rigorously of late, ever since Mr. Harwood had begun courting Julia, a talent that had unearthed numerous tidbits about the man, most of which astounded her. Why, had she not known better, his lordship's glowing accounts would have led her to believe Gideon Harwood to be a man of sterling character.
Indeed, according to Lord Shepley's reports, Mr. Harwood was regarded as exceedingly honest and trustworthy in London's most prestigious business circles. And while the ton's social doors were closed to him-well, at least they had been before she had feigned an attachment to him-the men of the beau monde were more than eager to include him when it came to matters of finance and commerce. They were also said to respect him. If Lord Shepley could be believed-and why would he lie?-both Gideon Harwood's intellect and ethics were held in high regard. So high, in fact, that his opinion on matters of business was frequently solicited by those in lofty places. In short, he was much admired by Lord Shepley and his circle. And as everyone in London knew, Lord Shepley's circle was comprised of the most influential and discriminating men in the realm.
Wondering at Mr. Harwood's ability to deceive a group of such astute men, Julia pried her fingers from the railing and urged her suddenly leaden feet in the direction of his front steps. Then again, why should she be surprised? The man could be exceedingly charming and agreeable when he put his mind to being so, something she had observed firsthand during their brief courtship.
In point of fact, Caro considered him to be quite the gallant, while Mina seemed half in love with him. The Duke of Dollimore had dubbed him a capital fellow and had been seen riding on Rotten Row with him, a very high compliment indeed. And then there were the estimable Lords Mellanby, Crankshaw, and Pettiford, all of whom rallied around him at every gathering and were said to frequently call at his home. Why, even the perpetually disapproving Aurelia approved of him, having pronounced him a most pleasing gentleman. As did her mother, whose coquettish fawning over the vile beast was an embarrassment to behold.
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